The Flashin' Club
by Kristen Bealer
Summary: The Fashion Club has a girls' night out, and all hell breaks loose.


**The Flashin' Club  
**  
by Kristen Bealer

o O o

Daria pushed the stack of money across the kitchen table with disgust. "I can't believe you're trying to bribe me...with singles."

"Sweetie, it's not a bribe, it's a deal," Helen explained in a patronizing tone. "Honestly, you're worse than my clients."

Daria wasn't even sure why she'd brought up the subject of joining the yearbook committee in the first place. The idea of dangling an extracurricular activity in front of her parents in exchange for a fat wad of cash had seemed like a good one at the time, but now she felt both insulted and badgered. She finally convinced her father to accept an expensive computer software package instead-a package that would swiftly be exchanged for _Cannibal Fragfest_.

Just as Jake had swept the money off the table, Quinn swooped in to snatch it from his hand. "Big date! Can't talk! Bye!"

It wasn't until later that evening that Daria wondered two things. First, when did Quinn start paying for her own dates? Second, what the hell could she possibly want with _that_ many one-dollar bills?

o O o

"Ready, ladies?" Sandi asked that evening.

"Let's do this," Quinn replied with a grin.

"Totallyyyy," Tiffany added.

"Wooooo!" Stacy cheered.

Sandi grinned. "Then I declare this Girls' Night...open!"

The four of them handed the indifferent bouncer their fake IDs one by one and poured into the club. The beat of the music was already pounding, and the girls could feel their pulses begin to race already. They started by ordering drinks at the bar, then eagerly elbowed their way through the crowd to find seats close to the stage. They'd gotten there just in time. The music grew louder, the crowd become even more boisterous, and the curtain rose.

"Good evening, Lawndale!" an unseen announcer called through the speakers. "Are you ready for a good time?"

"Yes!" shouted dozens of women, the Fashion Club the loudest of all.

"Then let me introduce...Thrusty Nail!"

The screaming hit a crescendo as a shirtless man with well-oiled muscles strutted onto the stage. He did a grinding dance all around the edge of the stage, plucking dollar bills from various women as he passed, before returning to the center of the stage. With a wink, he grabbed the front of his pants and ripped them away to reveal nothing but a black leather G-string.

Stacy slammed back a shot, then threw her head back to shriek "Awwwwww _YEAHHHH_!" at the top of her lungs.

Sandi was already digging around in her purse, pulling out a fistful of dollar bills and hurling them in his direction like a desperate politician tossing candy from a parade float. Thrusty immediately headed her way, dancing provocatively in front of her as he gathered the money. Stacy's face was a frozen mask of pure delight as she stared at him. Winking at Sandi in thanks, he moved on to other customers.

"Did you see the way he was flirting with me?" Sandi asked, preening happily. "I've still got it."

"And I'm sure the money had nothing to do with it," Quinn pointed out with a tiny smirk.

"Whatever. At least I'm generous. Did the rest of you even bring money?"

Quinn fanned out the bills she'd gotten from her father earlier that day, plus more she'd been saving for the occasion. Stacy was already shoving a few dollars directly into Thrusty's G-string, while Tiffany held up a small stack of no more than five bills.

"That's all you brought?" Quinn asked, surprised.

"Theeeeey're twenties," Tiffany explained. "I forgot to breeeeak them."

"You brought _twenty-dollar bills_ to a strip club?" Sandi exclaimed. "You know these guys aren't going to give you change back, right?"

Tiffany shrugged, unconcerned. "Don't worry. I'll get myyyy money's wooooorth."

Quinn turned her attention back to the stage, where Thrusty was still teasing the audience by hooking his thumbs in the G-string but not removing it. "Come _on_ already!" she hollered at him. "Clothes are on; they should be _off_!"

"Yeah!" Stacy bellowed, pounding her hands on the stage.

"Impatient, are we?" Sandi asked them.

Quinn tossed her hair over one shoulder. "I'm here to see guys strip," she said matter-of-factly. "So they need to strip."

At last the G-string went flying into the audience, where Stacy elbowed two other women out of the way and hip-checked a third to grab it in mid-air and stuff it into her purse. "Yeah, bay-beeeee!" she called out, jumping up and down and jabbing a triumphant fist in the air. "Another one for the collection!"

Smiling appreciatively at Thrusty, Quinn nodded. "Now that's what _I'm_ talking about."

Sandi only whistled and tossed out a few more dollars.

Tiffany tilted her head appraisingly. "I've seeeen betterrrrr."

Thrusty left the stage to wild hoots and applause, and Quinn went back the bar for another round of drinks for the Fashion Club. As soon as she returned, the announcer's voice boomed out again. "Next up for your viewing pleasure, please welcome Buck Stallion!"

Stacy let out an incoherent scream of joy. The other girls jumped, startled, and looked at her. "How many drinks has she had?" Sandi asked.

"Just the one shot so far," Quinn answered. "She's a total lightweight."

"Oh, I'm not drunk yet," Stacy said with an almost feral grin. "You just wait until I _really_ get going."

Buck Stallion now swaggered in, doing a seductive bump-and-grind that set the whole room cheering. Quinn held out a few bills and he gyrated his way over to her. "Care for a lap dance?" he purred, sliding closer to Quinn.

"What? No!" Quinn cried, shrinking back slightly but flicking another dollar at him. "Don't touch. Strip, damn you!"

He grinned and winked at her. "Suit yourself."

Sandi, now on her fourth drink, suddenly appeared to explode in a cloud of dollar bills. "I'll take that lap dance!" she called out, waving him in like a traffic guard.

"Ohmygod he's so _hawt_!" Stacy squealed, nudging Tiffany as she watched Buck glide over to a delighted Sandi.

"Heeee's oooookay," Tiffany said with a shrug. Once Buck had finished the lap dance, she held out one of her bills. "You can haaaave this..." When he reached for it, she pulled it away slightly. "...if you tell meeee I don't look faaaaat."

"What?" Buck asked, confused.

Tiffany let out an annoyed huff and started speaking like Buck was a very small child. "Tell. Me. I. Don't. Look. Fat!"

"Seriously?" Buck asked, looking annoyed. "You're not freaking fat, okay?"

"Right? _Thank_ you," Quinn muttered.

Tiffany smiled and handed over the money. "Well doooone."

"Me next!" Sandi called out gleefully. "Tell me I'm pretty!"

Buck was starting to look a little nervous. "You look pretty," he said obediently.

"Now tell me I'm popular!"

"You're popular."

"And that I'm better than every other girl in the whole universe, ever!"

"Uh, you're better than, um...all that stuff you said."

Sandi squealed with joy and shoved two fistfuls of cash at him in thanks.

Quinn held up a wad of bills. "These are yours, too," she told Buck, "but no more talk. Get that gorgeous ass up there and start shaking it before I start kicking it!"

"Seconded!" Stacy said.

Buck strode back to the center of the stage and began posing, flexing, and dancing so hard even Tiffany raised an appreciative eyebrow. Stacy, jumping and screeching the whole way through, hurled the money at him and applauded wildly as he finished his act.

"Yes, very nice," Quinn said, waving him away. "Now shoo! You're holding up the next hottie!"

The Fashion Club had lost count of the number of drinks they'd had by that point, and decided to celebrate the milestone with another round before the next act came out. "Let'sh goooo!" Stacy howled when she staggered back to her place near the stage. "More shtrippersh!"

This time three strippers emerged onstage: Rocky Rhodes, Jack Hammer, and Albert Henderson ("I'm still working on it, okay?"). They all circled the edge of the stage as they danced. Quinn continued passing out tips without hesitation, but recoiled in horror whenever any of them came close to invading her personal space.

Stacy stuck a dollar bill in her mouth and waved Jack Hammer over. Leaning in, he took the bill from her mouth with his own, grinning at her as he slowly stood back up and resumed dancing.

"Ew, Stacy!" Quinn wrinkled her nose. "Don't you know money is crawling with dirt and germs and unpopular people cooties?"

Stacy shrugged and threw back another shot. "Alcohol killsh germs, right? I'm-hic-good."

Tiffany stared impassively at each stripper, shaking her head dismissively at their efforts. "Too tall," she said of Rocky. "Too many muscles," she said of Jack. "Too sexy," she told Albert.

"_Too_ sexy?" Sandi asked in disbelief. "What the hell?"

Fortunately, Sandi was still generous enough with her tips to keep all three strippers coming back their way. "Hey, do you wanna go out with me sometime?" she asked Rocky, swaying drunkenly as she gave him what she probably thought was an alluring smile. "Have you ever been to Pay Chierre?"

"Sandi!" Quinn said, scandalized. "Don't you know that's against the club's rules?"

"What, this lousy place thinks we're not good enough to date their strippers?" Sandi demanded angrily.

"No, I mean _Fashion Club_ rules. Asking a guy out is _strictly_ forbidden under the club by-laws!"

Stacy, meanwhile, was bellowing slurred catcalls and snatching at the strippers' clothing until they began keeping a safe distance from her.

Tiffany, strangely talking more quickly the drunker she got, was still pointing out their deficiencies. "Your hair has split ends. The skin on your elbows is dry. One of your earlobes is bigger than the other."

At first the dancers, noticing the high denominations on the money she was holding, tried harder to impress her even as the nitpicking increased. "Your pores are too small. You look too much like a Capricorn. I bet your spleen is ugly." That was the moment Rocky finally fled the stage in tears.

"Wait!" Sandi cried, waving money in both hands. "I never got your number!" She knocked over several of her empty shot glasses as she wailed, "I _am_ pretty! I _am_ popular! All these guys _do_ find me attractive, dammit!"

Jack Hammer reached out to take another dollar from Quinn, but his hand accidentally brushed her fingers as he did so. "_I said no touching!_" she screeched, raking her nails across his face in a flurry of rage. He fled offstage, one hand pressed against his cheek to stop the flow of blood.

Albert tried to continue his act, but began backing away when Stacy climbed onstage. "I'll show you how it's _really_ done," she declared, beginning to pull her shirt up.

"Excuse me." All four girls turned to see a well-dressed man flanked by two hulking bouncers, one of whom grabbed Stacy by the arm and pulled her back off the stage. "You're disrupting the show and I'm going to ask you to leave. _Now._"

"No!" Quinn shouted, pounding on the stage. "_More beefcake!_"

"You guys are the ugliest dancers yet," Tiffany informed them, then pointed toward the stage. "Tell the dancers to come back out and fight to the death. The winner gets my last twenty."

"Woooooooo!" Stacy yelled, only upright because of the bouncer holding onto her arm. Abruptly her head dipped and she puked loudly on his shoes.

"Out!" the manager demanded, and the other bouncer grabbed Quinn's arm to drag her away.

"_No touching! LET GO OF ME!_" Quinn screamed, then pulled her arm back and punched the bouncer in the nose hard enough to draw blood.

In spite of Quinn's repeated assaults on the bouncer, the Fashion Club was hauled out of the club kicking and screaming and tossed unceremoniously onto the pavement outside. "Call me!" Sandi yelled, flinging a scrap of paper with her number on it toward the men as they returned to the club. Then the girls stood up and brushed themselves off. "That was fun," Stacy said with a hiccup.

"Totally," Tiffany agreed.

"Same time next week?" Quinn asked.

"Definitely," Sandi affirmed. "This time I think we'll hit The Schlong Haul in Oakwood."

"Sounds good," Quinn said. Stacy, still unsteady on her feet, just nodded.

"Maybe I'll bring a hundred dollar bill this time," Tiffany mused. "Do you think I could get my money's worth?"

"I think we might beat our speed record for getting kicked out," Sandi replied with a low chuckle.

The girls high-fived and set off for home.


End file.
